Of Death and Elves
by The Sugarfaerie
Summary: Elves are not accustomed to death. Inspired by Helm's Deep in the TTT movie. Looks at both Haldir and Legolas, nonslash


Okay, so I'm writing my first LOTR fic. I got the idea for this fic while watching _The Two Towers_ for the umpteenth time. I was watching the scene where Haldir dies (yes, I know he got nowhere near Helm's Deep in the book), and I thought that for an Elf, both dying and having one of your kinsmen die must be a pretty big thing, as Elves are not 'destined' to die. I pointed this out to my friend, and she agreed and said that the Elves, because they are expected to live forever, probably didn't have many rituals for remembering or burying the dead. Thus, this quick one-shot was born…

(By the way, if there is an Elvish burial ritual described in one of Tolkien's books, then I apologise. So far I've only read _The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings _and am reading _The Silmarillion, _so I haven't come across one yet)

Disclaimer: If I did own Lord of the Rings, would I be here writing about it? No. I would be out there trying to resurrect Boromir.

Of Death and Elves 

"_Fall back! Fall back to the Keep!"_

_I acknowledge Aragorn's shout with a nod, then concentrate on fighting my way off the wall. Then, suddenly…_

_My eyes fly open in surprise as the Orc blade cuts into me. I didn't see it coming… Why didn't I see it? In shock I lift my hand to the wound. Blood is trickling onto my armour. Then, another blow…_

_I sink to the floor, my eyes falling onto my kinsmen beside me; their eyes wide open in what could only be death. I led them here, my friends, my brothers. Had it not been for me, their eyes would still be merry and bright as they lived on in the Golden Wood for ages to come. _

_The world darkens… Will I join my fellows? Is this the end?_

_Is this what death is?_

"Legolas? Come, the wall still waits."

It is a terrible task that the living are always set. The task of sorting the bodies of your friends from the bodies of your enemies. They are torn, mangled, destroyed, their lives ripped from them by swords, axes and arrows. Some can barely be recognised and some are still distinctly themselves, as if their appearance is the only thing that still clings to this world. Yet they are all nothing but an imprint, a hollow shell. Nothing.

A small cry is ripped from me as I recognise the Marchwarden, Haldir. He lies slain between Orcs, creatures that are so different from us, the Elves, yet also so alike. They kill, and so do we. Enemies, friends alike, now they are all simply soldiers, dead upon the ground.

Haldir's face is not serene as those who die in legends are. He has surprise stretched across his face. Perhaps in death he was surprised. After all, we are Elves. It is not in our destiny to die. We walk on this earth for the Ages, until this world ends or the Sea calls us home. We do not simply die, as Men or Dwarves do.

Every time I come across a body of an Elf, I am forced to ask myself if this battle was worth their sacrifice. Should they have paid with their lives to save the lives of Men, who die as quickly and as frequently as leaves fall from the tree? They enter and leave this world in a heartbeat. Our life is eternal.

"Legolas?" Gimli the Dwarf appears behind me. He walks around me and sees the Elven warrior lying dead upon the stone. "Oh…" He bows his head in silence for a moment, and then addresses me in that brisk way of his. "What will you do?"

I shake my head slightly, trying to clear it. "I do not know. This may seem strange to you, but I have never had to bury one of my kin before."

Gimli shrugs. "Well lad, if you don't know how to bury your kind, bury them as Men do. After all, they died fighting together."

Bury them as Men do? Perhaps that would be the best way. The two races were united in battle, striving for a common cause: survival. And now they would be united in death.

I feel something wet on my cheek. Surprised, I put my hand up to touch it. "Gimli, what…" I trail off, unable to continue.

"Don't worry, lad. It's not shameful to weep at the loss of someone."

Loss? Yes, the loss of one of my kinsmen was new to me. Yet maybe this feeling soon would not be new to me.

I, who had lived for many lives of Men, would learn how to grieve.

Crap ending… For some reason that all sounded better in my head. Oh well, review anyway, I love feedback! (bribes with cookies)


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